The Illustration
by Doug2
Summary: An innocent tells his story when he is helped by Phoebe. Please review.


THE ILLUSTRATION

How best to begin my tale? Many of my fellow Bostonians felt I was a rather successful author, bookshop owner and amateur lecturer. I had established the bookshop in 1888 after approximately ten years of writing and lecturing about anything that took my fancy. The struggles of the underclass, the rise of the great monopolies, social issues of the day and an interest in the occult were among by favorite topics. Though I was little known outside of Massachusetts Bay, I was often called upon to lecture at local philosophical societies and college societies. I found the exchange of opinions in a public formal to be very stimulating. In the spring of 1895, I met a fascinating lady at one of my lectures on the world of spirits and life beyond death. She told me how all my ideas were wrong, but she said she could correct my misconceptions. To her noted men in the field like Harry Houdini and Arthur Conan Doyle were only amateurs and that the real spirit world operated completely differently. I found her very stimulating to talk to and I had more than a passing interest in her socially. Her name was Samantha Van Hooster and she came from a very old family in New York. Her family had been interested in the occult for generations going back to her European ancestors. Not to extent my story too long to the reader, she spun tales of ghosts and spirits, witches and warlocks, battles for good and evil and all sorts of otherworldly activities. We became very close and become lovers. I was thoroughly enamored with her beauty and her intelligence. She could turn any argument around and draw any conclusion she wanted with her play on words. We started to collaborate on a book based upon her observations of the other realm when I met the daughter of my publisher. She stole my heart quicker than any other young lady I had met. She was much younger than Miss Van Hooster and was much more grounded in this world. Her interests leaned more toward the social and progressive issues of the day. We saw each other regularly for months. My visits to Miss Van Hooster and the work on our literary collaboration eventually ceased. One night after a pleasant evening with my friend, I reached my home and sat down very exhausted. Then I heard a sound and looked up and there stood Miss Van Hooster, apparently coming straight out of thin air. Harry Houdini would have envied the illusion. Her normally violet eyes had turned bright red and I had never seen any human being angrier.

"How dare you toss me aside so easily. Don't you know I loved you? I was sharing secrets with you that no mortal knew," she glared.

"Mortal?" I asked, "And what are you, Samantha, my darling?" I was more terrified than I had ever been.

"I am a witch and you will never forget what you have done to me!" she vowed.

With that she closed her eyes quickly and we suddenly found ourselves in what I believed to be the basement of her house near Beacon Hill. It was a small cramped space filled with old books, strange jars of unknown substances and a large kettle on an old fashioned wood burning stove.

"If you are a witch as you say, then you cannot harm anyone. That is one of the canons you described to me," said I.

"There are other forms of revenge that can be done that do no harm, my dear. And you will not soon forget me," she threatened. "I do not like being rejected. I opened myself more to you than any other man. We could have had a rich life together, but not after what you did to me."

She reached up to her bookshelf and obtained a copy of "Spirits and the Other Worlds," that I had written three years before. Opening to the Plate III following page 112, there was an engraving of several demons dancing around a fire performing some ancient ritual.

"Excellent!" she said triumphantly, "This is perfect for your new home."

Puzzling over her last remark, she threw the content of her mortar and pestle into the kettle and recited, "Enchantrus, clareenus, endorus, mandelus, feragus."

With the last word she uttered, a black mist rose from the pot reaching toward me and encircling me. I felt weak, closed my eyes and found myself dancing around the same fire as in the illustration. In fact, I was in the engraving looking out at Miss Samantha. She appeared very satisfied with herself, while I was in total disbelief as to what happened to me.

"Good bye, darling!" she said as she closed the book.

What occurred next I could only surmise for I could see nothing except when the book was opened to my page. Apparently she placed the book in my bookshop and my prison was purchased sometime later. The book must have been passed down through a family for decades. I was sold and purchased maybe fifty years later and sat in somebody's library for another forty years or so. I do wish that the book I had authored had fostered more interest, for sometimes it was years between readings of it. When that library was broken up I came into another bookstore and that is where my tale starts anew.

After not having had my illustration viewed at for approximately twenty years, the book was opened and looked at by a young lass of strange dress standing in a bookshop. I called out and for the first time in all my years of imprisonment, someone replied.

"Hello, I say, do you see me?" I cried out.

"Whoa, I never had a book talk to me before. Who are you and what are you doing in there?" she asked.

"My name is Hannibal Whitcliff. A jealous witch put me in here many years ago. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" said I.

"I am Phoebe Halliwell and I work here in the Enchantment Bookstore and believe it or not I am a witch." said she.

"I would believe most anything by now, I have had a very long time to think. What is the year, if I might inquire?" I asked.

"It's 1999. How long have you been in there?" she asked.

"Good lord, have I been in this prison for over 100 years? How can that be? Being a witch, do you think you could find it in your heart to help me?"

"I'm fairly new at being a witch, but I can try. Stay in there a little longer and I will see what I can do at home," she promised.

"I will be here on plate III anxiously awaiting your return," said I.

"My you speak wonderfully. Till then little Hannibal. Bye!" and with that she closed the book.

Sometime later the book was opened again and Miss Phoebe stood there in some attic room looking quite pleased with herself.

"I know I can help you. The spell to get you out is in our magic book," she said excitedly. She placed the book down and started chanting, "Prisoner of love, trapped there so, finish your sentence, now out you go."

I felt a strange pulling sensation and dissolved into the air and found myself standing next to Miss Phoebe. She was not very tall, young, very pretty and not covered by too many clothes. I must assume that most young ladies dress this way in this year.

"Thank you, oh thank you, Miss Halliwell. The long years I waited in there, you could never believe the taxing of the mind. Nothing to stimulate you, nothing to look forward to, just years and years of darkness and nothingness. I had no want of eating or thirst. Even death would have been welcomed, but no. I do wish I had written something that more people would have read. I would go decades sometimes between readings. And now I can stretch and move and I..I..go on like a lunatic. My experience could have driven some mad, but I must show my appreciation. How can I..."

"Forget about it. We're the good guys and we're supposed to help others, the innocent. Being a good witch has its satisfaction. The real question is now how are you going to fit in after a hundred years?" asked Miss Phoebe.

"Well, I..I..don't know. I was something of a scholar in my day, I am probably quite out of date by now. Maybe I could work with some historians as an expert on my era," I mused.

"You can't tell anyone where you came from or who I am. We have enough trouble explaining all of the strange things that happen to us anyway," she pleaded.

Then a sudden flash of light occurred, smoke filled the attic and when the smoke cleared there stood Miss Samantha, not one year older.

"So you have been let out, Hannibal. You don't think I forgot you did you? My broken heart takes a long time to mend. I have forgiven you, but I can't forgive your prison breaker. How dare you break my spell, you little witch you!" she glared.

"I just thought he suffered long enough. Besides we're supposed to help people out. I just..." and with that Miss Samantha turned Miss Phoebe into a living statue. She did not move or breath.

"Stop!" she said. "I hope you learned your lesson, I have to teach one\ to young witches like this. Hannibal, you can stay out of your prison, but SHE will pay the same price you did. Enchantrus, clareenus, endorus, mandelus, feragus. Goodbye darling!" And then she vanished in a great deal of smoke.

When it cleared I felt very peculiar. The room seemed to have gotten bigger and I was walking differently. I went over to a looking glass and to my horror I saw the reflection of Miss Phoebe. I look down at myself and I now had the figure of a female. She had switched places with us, probably to cover the imprisonment of the young witch. Looking at the book, all of the demons were still dancing around the fire, but none of them were moving. One of them must be Miss Phoebe.

"Phoebe," someone called from downstairs, "What's with all the smoke? What have you been doing?" Up the stairs came a tall woman with short hair wearing what appeared to be a man's suit. Not knowing what to do I played along till I could assess my situation.

"All is well, my dear," I said and I took the book downstairs with me.

As I got my first look at the late twentieth century, I found it's residences less cluttered than the Victorian era. The colors were much brighter. There were many new electrical devices that I couldn't even try to fathom their purpose. In their kitchen, another medium size woman was preparing supper. She was called "Piper" and she called the other one "Prue" I surmised that my nickname was "Phoebes". Somewhat odd, but then I was the one that was out of place.

"What are you reading there?" said Piper.

"Just an old book on mysticism written a long time ago. I found it at the bookshop," said I.

"When did you start to pick up books for pleasure reading?" asked Prue. "If it's classical you probably watched it on TV. Dinner will be ready shortly."

We sat down and had something called tacos. I surmised that they were Mexican in nature. They must make them a lot in California since they are so close to Mexico. During dinner I learned that the three women were unmarried sisters each employed and living in their grandmother's house. This house is very old and must not be typical of this century's architecture. Each woman is also a witch and they must have conflicts with otherworldly creatures while maintaining a normal mortal life. I was very impressed that women had achieved so much in the last one hundred years.

"Phoebes, you have been awfully quiet tonight. Any problems you want to talk about?" asked Piper.

"No, just a great deal to think about. The supper is greatly appreciated, but I am going to retire early. Good night Miss..er..Piper and..eh..Prue," said I.

"Retire early?" giggled Piper, "You have been hitting the classics. That's enough "Masterpiece Theater" for you. Fair-thee-well, little sibling. Good night Phoebes."

"Good night, Pheebs," said Prue, a little hesitantly.

I ventured upstairs and found one bedroom labeled "Phoebe's Pad" and went in. The room was not very tidy and there was a large COLOR photograph of Miss Phoebe in some graduation robes and a high school diploma mounted next to it. I had found her bedroom, but what to do about my situation. I had been imprisoned for so long that I didn't want to end up back in the book again, but I had to help Miss Phoebe. I determined that I would go to sleep and work on it tomorrow. I was very tired since I had not exerted myself as much since some time in the last century. I found a nightgown looked curiously at myself in the mirror. And went to bed. In the morning, I found the address of the Enchanted Bookshop and an autobus schedule so I could get there. I dressed as quickly as I could, not having been female before and headed downstairs.

"Can you make coffee for Prue, Phoebes?" said Piper, "I'm in a hurry and have to get to the club. My, you're dressed on the conservative side today."

All I could say was, "I expect a large consignment of books today and must be on my way." I needed every extra minute to find the shop. "Have a good day at the .. club?" and I was off.

I headed to the autobus station wondering what type of club she could be working at. Do men and women join the same clubs today? I marveled at the number of autocars or horseless carriages as we called them. The many varieties and bright colors. I asked the autobus operator where I should transfer and he helped me get there quite easily. Being a woman I couldn't get used to other gentlemen looking at me and smiling and wondering what else they had on their minds. We were never so forward with the fair sex in my day though Miss Phoebe must represent a fine-looking woman in this day and age. San Francisco appeared to be very hilly. Some trolley cars still seemed to operate, though the dominant type of transportation was with either motorcar or autobus. There was also quite a mixture of the races from all over the world, too

As I entered the bookshop, I felt somewhat at eased; it was larger than my old shop in Boston. To them it might be considered old fashioned and quaint with the wooden shelves and all. I felt quite at home.

"You're early for once Phoebe," said someone must own the shop. "First try and sort out the sci fi section."

I put her purse down in the back and started to look around the store. One section was labeled "Science Fiction" and I started working in that area. Most of their books appeared to have shiny paper bindings. There were very few hardbound books and these did not have a stitch in the binding. How do they expect their works to last the generations? I sorted everything by author and found a lot of books labeled "Star Wars" and "Star Trek". Could man have gone so far out from our planet in such a short period of time? Since the section was labeled science FICTION, I surmised that these works were just stories based on projected future events. When I got near the end of the section I found works by Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. Now I understood the term, it dealt with imaginative tales using the future or imaginative inventions and extrapolating events. Finding something I could relate to found me starting to cry and wishing to be home. Being a female seems to be more complicated than I originally thought. A fellow named Ben came over with a cup of coffee and tried to sympathize with me.

"What's wrong? Phoebe. You look awful," he asked.

"It was very kind of you, but after a brief rest, I should be fine. Her emotions are hard to get used to." said I.

"That time, huh, " said Ben. "Well, I'll just have to get back to work."

He left as I thought, time for what? Anyway, I finished the rearrangement, drank the coffee and went over to the mystical section. I found the space where my book had been and wondered how long I sat on that shelf. During lunch I browsed thought there and found nothing to help Miss Phoebe or me. After lunch, they asked me to "enter" some orders into the "computer" and I did not understand the task. Ben thought I appeared crazy or lazy and he started working on a typewriter board looking at a bright screen that responded to his "entering'. Could these things be some fancy mechanical counting devices? We had some things like that. I finished the day sorting more books and feeling that even this bookshop was not a place for me. As I left, the woman in charge said that she hoped I felt better tomorrow. I just walked out with my head down feeling more lost than ever. Then I found myself in front of the "Public Library" after wandering for quite a while. Inside I went. One of the Librarians helped me with the computer machine and I found it quite helpful. The bookshelves themselves did not appear much different than in my day and I found my requests easily. Unfortunately, Phoebe (me) had to get a library card before we could remove books from the library. I did not find anything on magic, but I did take out some literature on what has happened in the last hundred years. It was very late when I got "home."

"Where have you been, Phoebes?" said Prue. "You know I'd like to know if you would be home for dinner. And James called you three times."

"Who?" said I inquiring.

"James, you know the big strong handsome unemployed actor you've been seeing for TWO months. And when did you start going to the library? "Twentieth Century American History", "Technical Invocations since 1888," "Great Short Stories 1945-1995." Didn't you learn all this in high school? Phoebes, what is wrong?" said Prue.

"I'm..eh..am trying to improve myself?" I said unconvincingly. "The bookshop is expanding and I want to be ready for their changes. I think I will go to sleep early tonight. It has been a very long day. Good night, Prue. Good night Piper."

I ascended the stairs and went into Miss Phoebe's room and started reading the treasures I picked up at the public library. I started marveling at the advancements of the twentieth century; airplanes, Radio, television, motorcars (Excuse me, automobiles), computers, rockets, space travel, all within a brief century. And the advancement of people, the distances between the classes had changed so much. The progressive movements of the late nineteenth century had allowed great advances for women and for all the races. Both the poor and the rich seem to share the same technical marvels, the computer, the automobile, and television. And the rich were not nearly as opulent as they had been. No one lived in gilded houses with hundreds of servants anymore. There was still a lot of crime and disease, but so many of the scourges of my time had been eliminated. This was a truly remarkable era. I think I could enjoy living here, but I still have to find out what I can do for Miss Phoebe. A couple of times throughout the night, I could tell that I was being watched. I thought that I must perform better to pretend to be Miss Phoebe.

In the morning I tried to dress like Miss Phoebe would. Adjusting my strange clothes, a knock came at the door. It was Piper, "Are you OK Phoebes, you been acting and sounding awfully funny lately."

"I..will..be..just..fine..Piper. Thank you for your consideration," I said.

"There you go again, you sound like an old novel or like Grams. We are both worried about you. Prue is up in the attic and wants to see us," said Piper.

Up to the attic we went. Prue was looking at the magic book. She started, "The Book of Shadows is opened to a spell to release trapped mortals from their enchantments and you, Phoebe, were the last one up here. Can you tell me what happened night before last?"

"Nothing unusual, I can assure you, " I said.

Piper chimed in, "There she is talking funny again."

"Alright, who what are you and where is our sister? Let me tell you that you don't want us witches angry at you," said Prue glaring at me. With that she made a motion with her hand and the settee slid clear across the attic floor and hit the far wall with a thud. I fell down in a big soft chair with fright.

"Phoebe, you shouldn't be surprised at Prue's power, unless your not our sister, are you?" asked Piper.

"Go get the book "Spirits and the Other Worlds," from my bedroom" said I, "and I can explain everything."

After relating my tale, Prue opened the book to my enchanted illustration and Miss Phoebe looked out from the book and said, "Hi, sis. Looks like I screwed up big time, this time."

Prue replied, "No, Phoebe, you did the right thing, I'm proud of you. You should have let us help you though. We might have prevented your imprisonment. Don't move. we'll be back to you shortly."

"Where am I going?" said Phoebe.

"Now first we have to get Samantha Van Hooster here and have her want to reverse the spell. If we do it without her, we could end up in worse trouble. Piper, go get that summoning spell. Mr. Whitcliff we will need your help since you are a witch at the moment. Hold your hand over the cauldron and repeat with us. Samantha van Hooster, we call thee, we summon thee."

So I put my hand over the pot and repeated with Prue and Piper.

"Samantha van Hooster, we call thee, we summon thee." And with a puff of smoke Samantha appeared again. I felt wonderful. I had performed REAL magic. She looked very upset.

"Why do you summon me? I don't wish to be bothered with the likes of these two for another century!" said Miss Samantha.

"Wait," said Prue. "You appear to be a good witch with a broken heart. The three of us have a job helping other good witches like you. Without the three of us together we cannot do that. We need the power of all three of us to battle warlocks and evil witches. Can't we work something out?"

"I know who the Charmed Ones are. You should still stay out of my business. That little witch in there should have left him alone. But since you can probably summon up more power than me, I'll let her go. He can go back where he came from. I don't need him around reminding me of my broken heart," said Samantha.

"You mean. I can go home? Back to my old time? Thank you Samantha, I don't think I could really fit in here. Please let Miss Phoebe out."

With more smoke filling the attic. Miss Phoebe stood there and I found myself back in the form I should be in.

Miss Phoebe said, "That's a lot better. It's awfully dark and gloomy in there. Why did you run off after I saved you?"

"I really didn't know what to do and I didn't want to go back into the book. I am also glad you are free and I am going home," said I

"Then I really won't remember you then," said Phoebe sadly, "if you return to 1895."

"No, but I will remember you and your kindness to me. Miss Phoebe Halliwell, you are truly an enchanting woman." said I. Miss Phoebe beamed with my last compliment.

And with that Samantha waved her hands, said an incantation and I vanished again into thin air.

Finally to end my story, I woke up in my own house the day after I had been imprisoned the first time around. I sat down to commit my story to paper and sort out all the details. My manuscript will be held by my lawyers and delivered to Miss Phoebe in the year 2000. I will make sure that she will know of her kindness to me. As for me, I had enough of the world of the occult and will concentrate on my other interests. But, if someone asks me if I believe in witches, I will say "yes". Good ones that is.

THE END


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